Me, You, and Miss Bug A Boo
by MGMK
Summary: Nine months and counting...


**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Summary: **_Nine months and counting…_

**Author's Note: **For those of you who don't know, I'm over on Tumblr now. Just look up chicagonightsstay. See you there!

* * *

"Guh," Maya says, holding her hand out, her tiny chubby fingers curled around a single Cheerio.

"Is that for Momma?" Brittany asks brightly and Maya looks at her hand curiously before holding the item out again.

"Guh," she repeats, insistent, and Brittany leans down, lets her press the cereal to her lips.

"Thank you baby girl," Brittany murmurs, chewing exaggeratedly, "There's nothing better than Maya-slobber-soggy Cheerio."

Santana chuckles, slipping on her shoes behind them, "They're the best aren't they?"

"Taste like Maya," Brittany grins wryly, taking Maya's bib off and replacing it with a fresh one before lifting her out of the baby chair. "Are you ready to go?"

"Just about," Santana answers, looking around the hotel room for her missing clutch. "Now, tell the truth, on a scale of one to ten, how crazy do you think Rachel's gonna be tonight?"

Brittany shrugs. "I might have to punch her," she answers, making Santana burst out in chuckles.

"I'm totally taking a picture if you do," she says, reaching out and grabbing Brittany about the waist, tugging her in close even though Maya's still in her arms.

"What?" Brittany asks, her amused eyes finding Santana's.

"You look good," Santana murmurs, giving Brittany a look and Brittany laughs, her hair shaking on her shoulders as she does so.

"Nuh uh, baby. Put those eyes away," she says, making sure Maya's keeping the distance between them. "We've got four hours of schmoozing to do and I do _not _think your management team would be too happy with us getting all indecent at a family show."

Santana laughs at the light admonishment, "What? I can't compliment my wife now?"

Brittany snorts, "Please. Your mouth is saying 'you look good' but that face is adding on 'enough to eat'."

She drops a quick kiss onto Santana's nose and then her lips before moving away, shouldering Maya's diaper bag and heading toward their hotel room door. She laughs again, throwing a little twist in her hips when she notices her wife staring.

"Yeah…" Santana says as she follows, looking contemplative, "Which one of our friends do you think we can rope into babysitting for an hour…or twelve?"

** *o*O*o***

Their limo winds through the city and Brittany watches as Santana lets Maya stand on her lap, holding her up and pointing out the windows at all the tall buildings.

Her daughter's face is so full of wonder, so enamored with all the bright lights and lively sounds that she barely notices them anymore.

They're in New York; all of the glee kids will be actually. Rachel's finally debuting her much anticipated show: _Gold Star_and they've all made plans to attend on premiere night to show their support.

It'll be the first time they've all gotten together in a long time. And even though almost everyone still has a home in  
Lima, Brittany's glad that they'll have this opportunity to catch up.

"Isn't it pretty, Baby?" Santana says, holding out Maya's hand to point and Maya bounces happily, a wide smile stretching her chubby little cheeks.

Brittany sighs, letting her head fall back against the headrest as she watches them – watches her family. Santana, her wife, looking stunning in this pale pink off the shoulder number, her hair loose and styled to perfection. And Maya, her baby girl, looking cuter than the cutest thing to ever cute in her little dress, the tiny curls on her head spilling out of a fancy matching bonnet. And then there's Brittany, looking none too shabby in a champagne-colored dress that stops just above her knee (which is no doubt the cause for rowdy Santana – her wife has always been a "leg" woman).

They're one fine family, of this she is sure, and while they may not fit the mold of convention, no one can deny the love they share.

On cue, Santana turns to her, catching the far off, dreamy look still simmering in Brittany's eyes. "C'mere," she murmurs, letting one hand fall from Maya's hip to reach out for Brittany's, drawing her nearer.

Brittany lets her tangle their fingers together, watching them mold to each other so easily. She presses in tight, her side nestled against Santana's and her free hand helping to steady Maya.

"You okay?" Santana asks when Brittany's fingers tighten around hers a little more than usual.

Brittany nods, assuring her with an easy smile but Santana sees through it, offering up a reassuring smile of her own. "It'll be fine," she says gently, nodding once so that Brittany knows she's serious.

And Brittany knows that - knows that the red carpet will be full of security guards and members of management teams and not just for her and Santana either but if someone so much as breathes too harshly on Maya so help her God.

** *o*O*o***

They see Mr. and Mrs. Schuester first and it's such a shock to see them both, she almost trips over her feet in her haste to greet them.

"Mr. Schue!" she yells out, ignoring some E! Reporter they'd been talking to and Santana nods at them graciously to amend for Brittany's sudden disinterest in them and their prying questions, Maya adorably waving bye-bye as well.

"Brittany and Santana," Mr. Schue says with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "How are my favorite glee girls?" he asks, giving Brittany and then Santana a quick hug.

"Careful," Santana warns playfully. "Don't let Rachel hear you saying that."

"Ahh," Will shrugs with a sheepish smile, tickling a giggling Maya's cheek, "I'm pretty sure she figured that out a while ago."

"Hi girls," Emma greets them, hugging them both even as a little boy clings to her legs desperately.

"Oh my God," Brittany gasps, her eyes finding him, "Is that Henry?"

Emma nods, reaching down for her son who turns even more bashful. "You remember Brittany and Santana, Henry.  
Say hi."

"Hi," the little boy says, rocking back on his heels.

"San, look, he's gotten so big," Brittany says, making a doting noise, "How are you, handsome?"

Henry's cheeks turn so red it almost matches the color of his hair, his freckles fading as the colors blend and Brittany chuckles, ruffling his hair gently before continuing their slow march down the red carpet.

** *o*O*o***

Rachel's play is…not exactly bad.

But it's not exactly good either.

If she had to describe it, she'd probably use the word…interesting.

And not just because it's so _obviously_ based on them and their Glee club trials and tribulations – she figured that out sometime between Kip (the guy who flames brighter than a four alarm fire) making out with the delightfully spacey Tiffany and the bumbling man-child Ben and his munchkin-sized stalker, Barbara (_really _Rachel?) – but because, man, Rachel's subconscious is totally gay for Fabray.

Between the several solos sung and the multitude of guys on-stage clamoring for attention, one might think that the sun rises, sets, and _lives _in Quinn's ass – or, you know, _Gwen's._

It's a bit disconcerting actually.

"Twenty bucks says this thing ends with Barbara and Gwen eloping," Brittany murmurs next to her and Santana has to fight to contain her snort-laugh. She rubs Maya's back absently; the baby girl's breathing having hitched momentarily in her sleep.

"Shh, Britt," Santana quiets her with a smile, nodding in their friend's direction, "Rachel's right there."

Edwin "Buzz" Kaufman is on stage, lamenting about the "one that got away" a.k.a. Barbara – at which point Puck scoffs _loudly_– as Brittany's head settles on her shoulder. "This is cool but Margarita's, like, nowhere near as hot as you are."

Santana nods. "She's lacking the 'tude, too. Plus, Rachel's been smoking some majorly primo stuff if she thinks I'd ever look twice at Chang," she adds, relatively loudly and Mercedes's shoulders start shaking from where she's sitting in front of them.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Tina whispers down the row, trying to be discreet.

"How do you know I haven't already?" Santana whispers back with a smirk, almost cracking up again when Tina's eyes almost fall out of her face.

"What?" she gasps, then hits an oblivious Mike in the back of the head, and he snaps around like a rubber band.  
"Ow. What? What's going on?"

"You told me you never slept with Santana," Tina hisses, her tone accusatory.

Mike looks astounded. "I didn't-"

"Then why is she-" Tina starts, but Artie cuts her off.

"Wait, why do _you _care?"

"Lord, she's done it again," Mercedes mutters, shaking her head even though she's smiling and Santana sits back pleased.

"Baby, look what you did," Brittany says, playfully scolding.

"I know," Santana grins. "Isn't it awesome? This is so much better than Rachel's play."

Brittany smiles. "That's 'cause nothing beats the original."

** *o*O*o***

The after party is one of the tamest she's ever attended and she's grateful for it, not wanting to cut short this evening with her friends because it'd turned to raucous.

As it is, she and Brittany are seated with Mercedes and Tina, discussing the weirdness that was Barbara and Gwen in Rachel's play, and Maya's off with her favorite (for the evening at least) uncle Sam – and that's mostly because he's the only one of the guys she'd trust her with.

"That one scene, on that hallway bench…" Mercedes says, "I thought they were gonna jump each other no lie."

"You think Rachel has any idea how incredibly queer she made her play," Tina asks them, munching on a cream puff.

They all look at Rachel who's standing across the room, blushing at whatever it is Finn's whispering into her ear before saying "Nah," in a laughing chorus.

"Yo, Santana, Brittany!" Puck yells, making a bunch of noise as he comes back into the room. "Check it out!"

Brittany's head swivels around and her jaw drops before she instantly seeks out Santana, her wife's eyes bugging out of her head.

"What…did you do…to our daughter?"

"What? It's just a little hair gel," Puck laughs, assessing his handiwork before jiggling Maya up and down on his hip, making her giggle. "She looks totally bad ass."

Brittany rushes forward and snatches Maya out of his arms a second before Santana starts wailing on him, her slaps landing loudly and covering up the Spanglish rant they've all grown accustomed to, everyone laughing as he tries and mostly fails to cover up.

Brittany eyes her daughter on her lap, the little girl clapping and laughing madly as her mama goes to town on Puck, her cute curly baby hair spiked up into a little (and, she has to admit, cute) faux-hawk.

"C'mon Munchkin," Brittany murmurs, kissing Maya's chubby cheek, "Let's wash this out before Mamma has a stroke or something."

She looks Maya over one more time, shaking her head at the adorableness before pulling out her cell phone.

One little picture won't hurt anything.

** *o*O*o***

Brittany's on her way back to the party after having gone to their room to retrieve a fresh bottle of milk for Maya, when two strong arms wind around her waist and pull her into a small room, her back pressing into a body so familiar she could probably recognize it from space.

Santana's so close and the bathroom's barely big enough for one – _very large_ – person so it's a bit of a squeeze for the both of them, not that there's very much space anyway as Santana slides her hands over her hips until they're on her ass, kneading gently at the pliant flesh she finds there and biting down on her bottom lip with a devilish smirk.

Brittany gulps, already feeling her body respond to Santana's ministrations; falling into a rhythm that always has come to them so naturally.

"I," she swallows back a moan, "I've got Maya's bottle."

Santana's grin widens, and she brings one hand around to take the bottle from Brittany, setting it down on the pedestal sink before she reaches back for her wife. "I can see that," she says quietly, sliding her hands down until they reach the hem of Brittany's super-short dress and Brittany gasps when Santana hikes the fabric up and the cool porcelain presses against her skin.

"But Maya's sleeping," she murmurs, leaning in so that her tongue trails a blazing path along Brittany's collar bone until she reaches the spot just behind her ear, sucking on the skin there and holding Brittany up when her knees unwittingly buckle.

"Sleeping?" Brittany asks, eyes lidded and heavy with arousal, her own arms wrapping themselves around Santana's shoulders.

"Mmm hmm," Santana confirms, her fingers slipping under the moist lace material of Brittany's panties and finding purchase as Brittany's hips buck instinctively, She nips at the skin behind Brittany's ear before moving her lips across to her mouth, her fingers steadily stoking the fire burning within her wife as their lips collide; tongues chasing one another as they both momentarily get lost in the kiss.

"She's sleeping," Santana continues breathlessly, panting against Brittany's mouth as she strokes firmly but slowly, "And we've got about ten minutes until one of our friends comes and finds us. Which is, coincidentally, longer than it normally takes to get you off so I think it'd be best if we concentrate on this (Brittany hisses as Santana's fingers press a little more firmly against her clit for emphasis), hmm?"

Brittany nods, eyes falling completely shut and approximately six minutes, thirty-two seconds, sixty moans and twenty-four '_fuck_'s later, Santana's casually washing her hands while Brittany leans against the door and tries to remember how to breathe.

"Hmm," Santana hums, drying off her hands before patting Brittany gently on the cheek, playfully condescending,  
"See what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it."

Brittany eyes narrow a second before she lunges at Santana, kissing her soundly before the laugh can even make its way out of Santana's chest but just when things are getting interesting again…

"No. No way, guys," Sam's voice calls through the door, jiggling the door handle, "I waited through round one without a peep, but I'm about to explode out here. Let me pee."

** *o*O*o***

Maya's been good for the entire flight – actually she's been good the _entire _trip, really – but even really good babies can get restless.

Problem is Maya's baby restlessness settles in when they're hundreds of miles in the air and still about an hour away from home so, yeah, this will not end well.

"Really bad timing, May," Santana mumbles, digging around in Maya's diaper bag for something she can _definitely _not fling across an airplane cabin – because, even though the lady in 5B didn't mind it the first time, she's fairly certain that a baby block to the back of the head won't go over quite so well in a repeat performance.

Maya whines and wriggles around in Brittany's arms so much so that her mother has to redouble her efforts just to keep her in her lap. "What's the matter Pumpkin?" Brittany asks her quietly, kissing her head. "Give us a hint so your mommies can help you."

Maya makes another noise of protest and while she's – _thankfully_– not crying now, it won't be much longer until she is.

"She's not hungry, she doesn't need a change," Santana says, ticking off possible solutions on her fingers and Brittany's own massage Maya's gums, fearing a teething fit but Maya just goes taught as a board, annoyed.

"You want some goldfish?" Santana asks hopefully.

"She's too young for a pet, San," Brittany frowns.

Santana smiles warmly, "I know Britt. I was talking about the crackers."

"Oh," Brittany says with a sheepish smile, "I knew that."

But Maya doesn't want crackers if her shaking her head emphatically when Santana presents her with one is anything to go by and Santana sighs, her head almost buried in the diaper bag as she searches.

"You're being a little rug rat right now, Maya," Brittany says and Maya huffs like she understands her, her annoyance reaching its peak.

Santana takes out her phone and sits it on Brittany's lap and Maya flails her arms around – ready to go into stage two of her 'I'm gonna cry' progression – and hits it, turning curiously toward the device and taking it between chubby fingers and pressing it clumsily against the side of her face while her moms remain oblivious.

"Dah. Dah. Guh mah buh buh ahh mee," she babbles.

Santana, curious as to why their daughter has suddenly stopped fretting, looks over and fights off a hearty laugh at what she sees, Maya's chubby fingers pressing against the dial pad of her phone.

"Britt, hand me your phone," she says quietly.

Brittany shifts, reaching into her pocket. "But I thought we couldn't use phones up here."

"I'm not…Just, look," she says, taking Brittany's phone and holding it up to her ear before tapping Maya on the arm gently to get her attention.

"Hello," she says when Maya's looking at her and the baby breaks out into a slew of giggles, cracking them both up as she prattles on in endless, babbling baby talk.

Brittany watches them, tickled to death at Santana (pretending to listen and understand whatever it is Maya's saying) and Maya's (face lit up in joy as she 'talks' to her Mamma) conversation.

"I love you, Maya," Santana says, speaking into the receiver and Maya grins, all gums and two tiny teeth up top.

"Say," Brittany starts, leaning into Maya's ear, "Love you too, Mamma."

"Gah gah meee duh guh," Maya says excitedly, making them both laugh.

"Close enough," Brittany murmurs, squeezing her gently.

"Gimme some sugar," Santana says, bending over and pressing a kiss against Maya's cheek, her kissing noises playfully loud.

** *o*O*o***

"You silly little girl," Santana says with a gentle laugh, reaching for Maya's arm and rinsing the soap away carefully.

Maya hiccups as she giggles, splashing in the water as her mother holds her, helping to keep her upright.

"You're getting Mama all wet, Princess,' Santana warns but Maya pays her no mind, content to keep filling her yellow plastic duck cup and upturn the water atop her head.

A door closes somewhere else in the house a split second before Santana hears Brittany's voice, "San! Maya! Where are you guys?"

Santana notes the slight distress in her voice with a frown, "We're in our bathroom, Britt!"

No sooner does she utter the last syllable is Brittany standing in the doorway, her suit jacket rumpled and shirt collar a wreck; she looks more than a little out of sorts and Santana's worry spikes dramatically. "What's wrong?"

"Bad day," Brittany murmurs, walking over to the tub and dropping to her knees to join Santana, ignoring the water soaking into her pants. "Really bad day," she adds, pressing a quick kiss to Santana's lips before sneaking one into Maya's thick curls, "We lost the McElroy account."

Santana's shoulders drop as she sucks her teeth in sympathy.

Brittany's team had been cultivating that account for months so she knows what a disappointment this must be.

"Aww babe," Santana soothes, resting her chin on her wife's shoulder and slipping an arm around her middle, "I'm sorry. I know how hard you worked on that account."

"It's fine," Brittany says, not sounding very convincing as she lifts Maya onto her chubby little legs, the baby girl standing wobbly in the slight waves the motion caused. "I'll be alright with some family time," she says, laughing delightedly when Maya reaches for her face, pressing their foreheads together so that they're eye to eye. "Yep, just me, you, and Miss Bug-A-Boo and I'll be A-okay."

** *o*O*o***

It doesn't dawn on Santana how tough Brittany's really taking it until she's changing Maya's diaper later that night.

She finds it odd when Brittany's not in bed with her and, hearing Maya's baby babble on the monitor, she knows she can't be with their daughter as well.

Padding barefoot to Maya's room, she sees the little girl sitting up in her crib, staring around into the darkness and talking to no one in general.

"What are you doing awake, huh?" she asks quietly, picking her up and carrying her to the changing table. "Did you leave Mamma a little present?"

Maya chews on her fingers, her eyes bright as they watch Santana and Santana would almost swear she was smirking at her…. and with good reason, too.

"Okay…." Santana says, her eyebrows reaching her hairline as she pulls down the diaper flap, "Maybe not so little."

Maya gives a short laugh like she understands her and Santana makes quick work of the diaper, grinning and lifting Maya into her arms when the baby reaches up for her.

"Let's find your Mommy," she whispers, tucking a kiss behind Maya's ear, holding her against her chest as she moves about their house.

But Brittany's not in the kitchen, or the living room, or…well, anywhere that Santana can see and she's worriedly contemplating calling her cell before she finally notices the light spilling under the door leading to the basement.

Pulling it open quietly, she and Maya – the latter rubbing her tiny fist into her tired eyes – make their way down the stairs and it's only now that she hears the faint music playing and she smiles, knowing now what she'll find when she finally reaches the subfloor.

Brittany's body is liquid as it moves across the dance floor, her skin flushed and sweaty.

She's completely lost in the music, at one with the blended instruments.

It's a little hypnotic.

And something she hasn't seen in quite a while so she takes a seat, just at the base of the stairs, hugging Maya even closer to her as she yawns, her little curious eyes blinking owlishly as she fights off slumber.

Brittany spins – one of those technical dancer spins that Santana's never quite gotten the hang of – when the song picks up in tempo and uncharacteristically stumbles on the release, turning her ankle in a way that Santana knows looks a lot more painful than it is.

She watches as Brittany slows her momentum, just barely avoiding crashing into one of the many benches that line one wall.

She's waiting for Brittany to laugh it off, waiting for her quick giggle and self-deprecating little eye roll but Brittany doesn't do any of that.

She just limps over to the bench and collapses onto it wearily; her breath hitching in a way Santana wishes wasn't familiar as she buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

"Baby," Santana says quietly, hastily padding across the polished wooden floor, "What's wrong?"

Brittany, instead of being startled by her wife's sudden appearance, just shrugs, her shoulders reaching high enough to cover her ears before falling back down again. Santana settles in next to her on the bench, their bodies turned toward one another.

"Are you upset about the account?" Santana hedges, "Is that it?"

Brittany starts to nod…but then she shakes her head slowly and Santana takes the hand that's not holding Maya and settles it under Brittany's chin, lifting it up. "Then, what is it, Britt? Please tell me," she breathes, a lump growing in her own throat now, "You know how I hate to see you sad."

Brittany nods as Santana's thumb brushes the moisture away from her cheek before she reaches out a hand to stroke tenderly against Maya's head, the baby burrowed into the skin of Santana's chest as she sleeps. "I miss dancing," she admits, her voice low and quiet, "Professionally, I mean. I miss it. I miss touring. I miss the feeling of it. I even miss the blisters on my feet and the ache in my bones. I just…I miss it, Santana."

Brittany watches Santana carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, but Santana's face is unreadable for the most part, just receptive.

"And, I mean, I know when we decided to have Maya we agreed that I'd focus on the most stable of my two professions for the money and everything. But, Honey, it's wearing me out now," Brittany says, shaking her head slowly. "Can you say something?" Brittany asks as Santana continues to listen without uttering a word. "What do you think?"

"I just want you to be happy, Britt," Santana says, her voice earnest. "That's all I've ever wanted; even if that means  
you collecting garbage for the rest of our lives. We'll be alright."

"You think so?" Brittany asks, her tone breathlessly hopeful.

"I know so," Santana assures her, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Okay," Brittany breathes, feeling tons better, "But I'm not picking up _garbage_ Santana. _Gross_. If you ever even think I'm heading in that direction, do me a favor: threaten divorce."

"Deal," Santana agrees.

** *o*O*o***

Santana watches from the couch with a quiet smile as Brittany lies on the floor with Maya, the baby stretched out on her tummy atop Brittany's chest, laughing as Brittany munches on her fingers.

Brittany's latest draft lies on the floor beside them, perilously close to a sippy cup full of grape juice and if Santana's wasn't one-hundred percent trusting of the safety seal, she'd probably make a dash for it.

As it is, she just settles in more comfortably, her lips constantly turning upward with every squealing giggle Maya lets loose because even though she's apparently terrified that her Mommy Brittany will chomp off her fingers, she's also a little tease, wiggling them back out a moment after Brittany's turned them loose from "danger".

Santana's own work, a new song she and Mercedes have been working on, lies idly on her lap, untouched for minute or so and the only thing she has etched in the margins of her song book is the one thing she's been trying to figure out how to tell Brittany.

"Hey, Britt?" Santana calls, closing the notebook and turning so that she's facing them head on.

Both Brittany and Maya look up at her, matching guilty expressions on their faces. "Yeah Babe?" Brittany murmurs, mouth still full of fingers which makes Maya giggle again.  
Santana scratches the non-existent itch on the back of her neck. "Have you spoken with Mike, lately?"

"Mikey?" Brittany questions, lifting Maya up until she's sitting squarely on her chest, "Not really. Not since Rachel's thing."

Santana bites her lip, using Brittany momentary distraction – she and Maya are playing some ridiculous hand-clapping game – as a momentum builder before she takes in a deep breath, jumping in. "Well, I have. And he had some pretty interesting things to say."

"Like what?"

Santana lets her eyes fall closed. "Like how he's going to be doing choreo for this show in New York and how his latest assistant had to quit on him for bigger and better and how he's kind of up the crack street without a pipe and how he wishes more than anything if you'd help him out. And I know you've been missing dancing so I thought, 'wow, this is perfect for Britt-Britt' and, believe me, I'm not forcing you or anything, I'm just presenting you with the option and-"

"Santana," Brittany finally cuts in and when Santana re-opens her eyes, Maya and Brittany are sitting right in front of her, the former standing in the latter's lap as Brittany sits Indian-style. "You did that for me?" she asks quietly, almost like she can't believe it and Santana shrugs, suddenly shy.

"A really wise person once told me that 'you say the dream and I help build your dream and that's what a partnership is about'," Santana quotes, proudly. "I'm in this with you, Brittany. We're gonna build our future _together_."

Brittany looks up at her, her gaze admiring, but then she shifts up on her knees, holding Maya up to Santana until Santana's standing her up in her own lap.

"So…" Brittany says, a coy grin on her face as her hands slide over Santana's thighs and grips them, her body settling in between her knees, "I guess this makes you my super sexy contractor."

Santana rolls her eyes but grins nonetheless, watching Brittany lean closer. "Guess so."

"Kiss me," Brittany whispers, her eyes fluttering shut when Santana leans closer but before her wife can close the gap entirely…

…Maya smacks a super big, super wet kiss onto the hollow of Brittany's cheek, pulling back and clapping her hands excitedly when she finishes.

Brittany scrunches up her face at the cold, opening one eye to look up at the both of them – mother and daughter alike sharing giggles at her expense.

"Guess I'm gonna have to be a little more specific from now on."


End file.
